i am as constant as an open door,
twice broken down,
no lock to shelter the life i've raised

i am a harbour of selfish psyches,
who write lyrics on my walls
and sleep in tiled stalls,
drunk,
on the promise of an eternal home.

i am a church of unbelievers,
idly bowing their heads
to no statue in particular,
the low hum of an absent mind,
dried up of answers.

*i leave them blind.

Writing isn't really my thing.

It never has been and I don't think it ever will be.

But god **** I could write a book about all the things I love about you.

All these fragments of life,
My own piece fits no puzzle;
All these fragments of life,
My dreams the angels muzzle.

All these fragments of life,
I am fading now into shadow;
All these fragments of life,
And nothing more is hallow.

All these fragments of life,
No more thought, no opinion;
All these fragments of life,
Only moving toward oblivion.

All these fragments of life,
No more sound, only silence;
All these fragments of life,
No more sight or other sense.

All these fragments of life,
My shard of the cross fell;
All these fragments of life,
Along the nether sea I sail.

All these fragments of life,
Mine, none belong to me;
All these fragments of life,
Mine belonging not to any;
All these fragments of life,
Now I am a faded memory.

Chasing a shadow
Creeping among flooded words
Teleporting, gone.

I lost my days,
gained in years
What if old?

this can't happen anymore
these twisted games you play
that i slowly let you win

the side glances, the hand-holding
all the flirting
it leaves me wondering if we could be
good together again, but i know we couldn't

here's the messed-up part of it all
i know that you mean so much more to me
than i do to you
it leaves me torn, while you walk away, again